


Golden glory

by Minsuga_genius



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist AU, M/M, Oikawa is a struggling artist trying to make it big, There will probably be a lot more things to add but i'll add them later, he doesn't admit it but he can't look after himself, this will be multi chapter btw!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minsuga_genius/pseuds/Minsuga_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The painting was beautiful. Unlike anything that Oikawa had every seen. To most people it was an amazing show of talent but, Oikawa knew. He knew the intent behind every brush stroke, the hidden message between each shimmering ripple of paint and most of all, he knew the painting was meant for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden glory

The café was bustling but Oikawa couldn’t here a thing .“Two days until the exhibition…two days!” he reminded himself over his coffee. “Two days till the biggest day of my life!”. Bokuto and Kuroo observed Oikawa’s lamenting from a far unsure whether to laugh or cry. “Oikawa…” Kuroo started. “ Yo! Oikawa-sama!!!” he waved his arms in front of his friends face only to be met with glassy eyes and a small frown playing on the man’s pale lips. “ What is it Kuroo?” he asked simply, his voice mangled with into a hoarse croak. Bokuto wanted to tell him he looked sick, Kuroo wanted to tell him he looked like shit, but now wasn't the time. Oikawa looked like he was breaking at the seams and with two days till his precious art exhibition, the probability of him snapping was phenomenally high.  
Bokuto demands, after Oikawa orders his seventh consecutive espresso, that its time to leave the cafe and get some fresh air. They all agree  
Its been a long day, Oikawa decides. Too long a day. He’s been out of his studio for four hours, four hours he’ll have to make up later that night if he wants to finish this piece in time. He looks at his clock seeing the numbers announce the time ’23:18’. “No sleep for me then” he laughs to himself although inside he knew his reckless sleeping pattern and lifestyle was taking a toll on his health. Just as quickly as the thought entered his head it disappeared so he ignores it and heads to the kitchen. He wasn’t particularly hungry after hanging out with Kuroo and Bokuto and opted with snacks instead of a full meal…he had a lot of work to do and a full meal would have got in the way even if he was hungry.

 

As soon as he opens the loft door the smell of paint engulfs him and fills him with the warmth that urges him to paint on and on and on! The studio its self is cramped and dark but in a good, homey way. Every wall is packed full of pieces of paper displaying half drawn sketches to pieces on the cusp of greatness. Every shelf is lined with sketch books and supplies: empty paint tubes he cant remember using, old cups with varying amounts of mold and mildew that he’ll never be bothered to move, disfigured pose dolls that he treasured for some reason… Even the floor was completely lost under a sea of pallets and papers but, it was all Oikawa had and he loved it.  
He turned on his electric heater to add some much needed light (and warmth) into the room. He hated the fluorescent lighting provided by the bulb hanging from the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what he hated more. The pretentious yellow beam of the light or the fact there was still no lamp shade? Anyway he loved the electric heater as it bathed the room in a soft golden glow similar to a real fire. It made the room seem less lonely. But unlike a real fire it didn’t flicker, meaning the long shadows cast around his room didn’t jump about like ghosts in the night. It was nice.

 

He set down his snacks, as well as a drink, and started gathering his supplies. Watercolours were his specialty. They dried quicky, could be soft or sharp, and were the only thing he needed to make a painting good. But Oikawa didn’t want good. No. He needed excellence. So he grabbed at least another 5 mediums or so and carried them to his station. The piece was already there, covered in canvas sheet. He stood there for a while as if waiting for something to happen. He was shaking as he reached for the cover, fingers twitching to some unknown beat. Sweat prickled the back of his neck as he touched the sheet and the room turned cold. He found himself holding his breath as he jerked the canvas away…and suddenly he remembered why he was out for so long today. He hated it


End file.
